During his own epic ski jumping career, the man born in the prefecture that staged Japan’s first Winter Olympics in 1972 at Sapporo, earned the nickname of "Happy Harada".

This was due to a combination of his natural amiability and his habit of smiling in adversity - of which he had much. 

In the men’s team event at the home Winter Games of 1998 in Nagano, however, the man who had always seemed to smile in defeat became the man who cried in victory. 

They were tears of happiness. 

To tell this story, we need to go back to the 1994 Winter Games.

Twenty two years after Japan had won gold, silver and bronze in the normal hill competition at the 1972 Sapporo Olympics, further ski jumping glory appeared imminent for the nation in Lillehammer.

As the second and concluding round of jumps in the men's large hill team event came to a close, Japan had established an apparently insurmountable lead, thanks partly to a highly respectable first round effort of 122 metres from Harada, the team's anchor.

Thus Harada had the final jump of the competition, needing only to reach around 110m to confirm victory. 

He landed at around 97.5 metres.

Germany thus took the title, with Japan slipping to silver.

In the wake of his Lillehammer trauma, Harada commented - presumably with a wry grin - "In the past, a well-raised Japanese would have to commit hari-kari after such a mistake."

Four years later, in front of home crowds packed onto the snow-stoked slopes of the northern Japanese Alps, Harada once again had an Olympic victory within his grasp, this time in the normal hill individual event, where his first-round effort of 90.5 metres put him into gold medal position with one jump to go.

A rapt crowd of around 40,000, gathered around the base of the jump, had just seen Finland’s Jani Soininen move into gold position ahead of the emerging Japanese star Kazuyoshi Funaki, who would go on to take individual gold in the large hill event.

As he stood at the top of the 90-metre normal hill at the Hakuba Ski Jumping Stadium for the final jump of the competition, the 29-year-old world champion needed only to get within four metres of his first effort to claim gold.

It was one of the most emotion-laden Olympic moments I have ever had the luck to witness. 

On this brilliant, sunlit morning a thousand sirens sounded; a thousand Rising Sun flags waved, as if in a gale.

Japan’s Crown Prince leaned forward in his seat as a nation’s hopes soared - and fell short. 

Harada managed an effort of 84.5m. Fifth. 

Gold for the electrified Finn now.

As Harada removed his helmet he appeared to be grinning, although he might have been screwing up his face as he stared into the sun.

"I knew if I made the 90 metres line I would make everyone happy," he said. 

"I am sorry."

As a side-note, Soininen later complained at having been held back for two minutes before being allowed to take his second jump during what the judges - who included one of the 1972 gold medallists, Yukio Kasaya - deemed to be unfairly advantageous head winds.

"These are the Olympics and I think this was not fair," the Finn later said.

An organiser explained that it had been decided competition should not continue while the head wind was more than two metres-per-second, and the reading when the Finn stepped up for the penultimate effort of the competition was four metres-per-second.

Meanwhile the Finnish coach, Matti Pulli, observed: "Maybe the delay ruined the chances of Harada. On his second jump the conditions were even worse."

If ever a man needed a change of luck, it was Harada. 

A bronze medal in the subsequent large hill event won by his compatriot went some way to salving the pain.

But his reputation remained in limbo ahead of the concluding team event, before which the head delegate of the Japanese team proclaimed: "We will win. We must win."

And so, once again, the Hakuba venue took on, to Harada, the appearance of a court of sport, with him in the dock.

This time his performance reflected his Olympic career - polarised between disaster and triumph.

In the first of his two jumps Harada reduced the massed home support to silence as he dropped at 79.50 metres - the sixth-worst effort of the whole event.

At the halfway point, Japan were one place off the podium and Harada’s tag as an Olympic choker appeared ready to be confirmed.

In the second round, the first and second of Japan’s four team members, Takanobu Okabe and Hiroya Saito, had recovered the home position with respective efforts of 143.6 and 124.7m.

Up stepped the third Japanese to go - Harada. 

What would it be this time - triumph or disaster?

He admitted afterwards that memories of Lillehammer had come into his mind as he prepared to take off. 

"To be honest, I was very concerned that the same thing would happen again," he said.

Adjusting his goggles at the top of the ramp, he slid down to his destiny - and soared out to 137 metres, equalling the Olympic record. 

The slopes came alive with flags. 

And when Funaki held the whole thing together with a final effort of 125.0m, Japan stood atop the podium.

After Funaki had come to a halt, Harada and his two younger colleagues ran over to him like madmen before diving down into the snow alongside him in celebration.

Having started his Olympic career at the 1992 Albertville Games, Harada - who won individual world titles in 1993 and 1997 - went on to compete at the 2002 Salt Lake and 2006 Turin Games.

But that heady moment in Hakuba on February 17, 1998 will remain the happy, and enduring, image of his sporting career.